Fuel
by tribias
Summary: Dave doesn't want to be a villain, but it's his legacy. When blackmailed into following through with it, he learns just how difficult it is to juggle villain duties on top of typical gay teenager problems, like falling in love with his best friend, who seems to be harboring secrets of his own. (Homophobic language, bullying, emotional/phychological/physical abuse)
1. The Legacy Situation

"What the fuck are you doing? Incinerate me!"

The command was hazily heard, but it was a command nonetheless. They had been at it for three hours nonstop now, and Dave could feel himself diminishing, flickering. Clumsily, with the last bit of light he had, Dave forced his palms forward, sucking in the oxygen around his calloused hands and using it to channel a flash of flame towards his brother. It was easily dodged and countered, Bro throwing his arm out to ready his own attack. A snake of bright blue flames wrapped around his bicep in a spiral, moving down and around forearm, and extended out to create a sort of flame-whip. It lashed at Dave's chest, and there was a sickening pop when it made contact. The younger Strider was sent flying backwards, back slamming into the concrete wall and crumpling into a defeated pile on the ground. He sucked in any air he could get, heaving, just trying to catch his breath after it had evaporated from his lungs.

Exhaustion overtook him. There was no way he was going to be able to go on. All he could do was watch Bro's boots advance towards him. His brother's voice was muffled, but Dave got the gist of it. Get up. Instead, he opted to close his eyes. Just for a minute. Strangely, it helped him focused on his brother's voice.

"…rob your first bank tomorrow. Get your shit together already. You think whatever hero is gonna come after you is gonna go easy on you because it's your debut? No, they're gonna try to end you. Squash the problem before it gets bigger. You know how many villains thought that they could just..."

The sound of Bro's voice was low and monotonous, which made it hard for Dave to focus on, but he needed something to focus on so he wouldn't think about how shitty he felt as he shakily forced himself into an upright position. There were definitely going to be some new bruises and scars. Instead of listening to his brother's long and demeaning lecture, his mind drifted to the smell of burning cotton. His shirt had plenty of holes, the red fabric littered with charred black holes. The stench was something he could never get used to. Nor the sensation of the heat radiating from the countless burns on his arms and torso. The largest was now on his chest, from the flame whip.

Bro went on some more about how Dave needed to get his shit together already. Dave tuned in and out as he pushed himself up on unsteady feet, hunched over slightly, leaning his shoulder against the concrete walls of their training room with his other hand pressed against the cool concrete to steady himself. Bro was still talking as Dave slowly moved out of the room, sliding against the wall to the doorway.

He walked out the double doors and into Bro's lair, just an underground room where he kept all of his old paraphernalia. He had his old Firehawk suit slipped on over a mannequin, newspaper clippings plastered on the walls, magazine articles, cover pages, everything about his previous life as the number one super villain in Texas, and even the United States. Dave had been impressed when he was little, but now that he was older, now that he understood, now that he was being forced to take the mantle and become Firebird, he couldn't hate it more. It was a fucking disgrace.

It took him a while to get back up to his room, and when he did, the first thing he noticed was the phone he left at the foot of his bed, blinking to signify new notifications. The light reflected in the shades that rested next to the device. His insides twisted. He didn't have to check the screen to know who was trying to get into contact with him. But he did anyways. Three missed calls from John. Ten new texts from John. Stomach churning moved to full force. Dave let out a huff and tossed his phone back onto his bed, then headed straight for his bathroom to take a shower. Maybe he could wash away the guilt along with his sweat and blood. It was better if he didn't talk to John right now. The Legacy Situation was too dangerous to involve John in.

The Legacy Situation was the worst predicament Dave had ever found himself in, so bad in fact, he decided to give it a full ass codename. The gist of the Legacy Situation was that Bro wanted Dave to pick up and continue his legacy as Firehawk, and to bring more villainous honor to the name. Bro had to retire in disgrace, so he wanted Dave to pick up where Firehawk had left off and prove that they weren't weak blooded. But Dave didn't give two shits about being a villain. He didn't believe in hurting people for his own gain. So naturally, he refused. Fuck being a villain. He didn't want to use his powers for evil. In fact, he rarely used them at all. He just wanted to be normal. But Bro wasn't having it. So he gave Dave an ultimatum.

Either Dave needed to go through with being a villain, or Bro would personally see to making John's life a living hell.

Bro also used the ultimatum as the first lesson in villainry: exploiting someone's weakness will always get them to do what you want. And Dave's weakness was John.

The two had been tight since they were about six years old. Best friends from the day they met. John's dad came down to Texas for a work opportunity, and they ended up staying, much to Dave's delight. And eleven years later, the two were inseparable. But then things started to get a little complicated. At around thirteen, Dave had to face the reality that maybe he liked John as more than a friend. Of course, he was never dumb enough to say it aloud. Just like every other emotion he had, he internalized it. For four years. But his brother could pick up on shit like that like a greyhound. And so the ultimatum.

Dave shed his hole-ridden training clothes once he got to his bathroom, and he went ahead and started up his shower so the water could heat up. He was looking for lukewarm, maybe even tepid as opposed to the boiling he usually preferred. Hot hot water on his burns would not feel so nice. While he was waiting, he stared at his reflection. How many scars did he have? Too many for him to easily count. The burns always tended to heal pretty quickly, faster than an average person's. It typically only took a day or two, depending on how big the burn was. The new one on his chest was already starting to heal around the edges. They never really hurt, the burns. They simply existed, uncomfortably but not in pain. Maybe a 2 on a scale of 1 to 10. And those red fucking eyes. Dave had a lot of fire in him, but fuck, he hated those eyes.

Right as he was about to get into the shower, he heard his phone ring. He could feel his heart seize. That custom-set ringtone. He sucked in a breath. He knew he shouldn't answer it. He knew he needed to distance himself from John as much as possible. But John was his home. And he was so incredibly homesick. He hadn't so much as breathed in the other's direction in three days. All he could think about was how worried John must have been. His friend knew Bro was ruthless, he just had no idea to what extent. Dave exhaled, "Fuck," and shut the shower off, sliding his shorts back on.

He managed to grab his phone and answer it right before the ringtone ended, all in one swift motion placing it against his ear. His voice was a lot gruffer than usual, but at least he was talking to John. "Hey, man."

"Dave! Fuck, what is going on?" As expected, John sounded pretty upset. Unlike Dave, John tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve.

"I know, I know," Dave started. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

"No, I don't think you do know. I missed the pre-order for the Little Monsters 30-Year Special Edition DVD Release!"

Dave just sat there for a moment, a smirk slowly pulling up at the corner of his lips. "Dude, it's fine. Just get it when it comes out."

"Just get it when it comes out," John mocked. "Are you shitting me? No! What kind of loser would I look like if I just bought it AFTER it came out?"

"Less of a loser than if you had pre-ordered such an artifact."

"I don't know why I expected you to understand my pain in this situation. This is serious, Dave. Did you not see all my texts?"

"I saw I had them, but I didn't read them. I was training with Bro."

"Christ, Dave. I explained everything in those texts. The Little Monsters 30-Year Special Edition DVD has all sorts of new bonus features, and they even reunited the cast so—"

"So that they could all get together and cringe at the absolute fuckfest of a film they produced from a lucid dream?"

"I don't know why I expected you to understand my pain here."

Dave's smirk melted into a soft, warm smile. "I'm sorry that you missed the pre-order, dude. How about I buy it for you when it comes out? Just so you can shut up about it."

It was easy to hear John's smile over the line. "That would be amazing. You're the best."

Dave nodded as if John could see him, and his hand gripped the messy sheets of his bed as he sat down. It was quiet between them for a moment, with Dave's eyes staring at his feet. "So," the blond started, "sorry I haven't been around a lot lately."

"It's alright," John said, his tone a bit quieter. "You know, you could make it up to me."

Dave quirked a brow. He thought he knew where this was going. "How?"

"Come over. I've barely seen you all week, and you were acting weird as shit on Monday and Tuesday. I don't know where you went, but study hall is so boring without you. You have to make it up to me and come over right now."

There goes that stomach churn again. Dave raised his hand from the gripped sheets to rub at the back of his neck. "Uh… I don't know, man… I got this job now. And I gotta work tomorrow."

"Then come over and tell me about it! You can leave for work from here tomorrow."

It was a bad idea, and Dave knew it. He knew he wanted to keep his identity a secret from John, and he knew that he needed to keep his distance from John for his own safety, but there was that part of his heart that lurched for John. And if Dave was doing what Bro was wanting him to, was John really in any danger? What good was distancing himself gonna do? It's not like he would ever stop caring about the other.

"…Alright, just let me get cleaned up and I'll head over."

Dave sat in his beat up old truck, the engine no longer running, but still warm. He stared at the front of the house he had essentially grown up in. It hadn't changed a day. Mr. Egbert was really good about keeping up the property, and Dave could remember a few times when he enlisted the boys' help. John's home felt more like home than his own house did. The only thing that hadn't been upkept was the slime pogo in the front yard. The spring underneath was rather rusty, threatening anyone who dare attempt to pogo on the back of the green monster. The tire swing was still stable, though, hanging from the massive oak in the front yard. Lots of nostalgia came with this home. Lots of fun memories. A couple of bad ones in the mix, but they were far and few between.

Dave glanced to the backpack that had been carelessly thrown into the passenger seat. In the very bottom, he had his custom suit ready to roll for the next day. His first bank robbery. His first villainous task at all. Banks always insured that kind of thing, right? They insured their cash? So if someone came along and tried to pull $1,000 out of their account, the bank wouldn't tell them that their money was gone, right?

These were thoughts for another time. Right then, he was there to see his best friend. He snatched up his backpack and heaved his truck door open, then slammed it closed behind him and slung his bag over his shoulder as he trotted up to the steps of the porch. He didn't knock, he never did. He just opened the door and walked through, like it was his own house. Right on cue, Mr. Egbert popped his head out of the kitchen to see what was up, but a soft smile graced his elegant features.

"Dave," he started, brushing his hands on the apron. "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight. Where have you been, young man? I don't think I've seen you in about a week now."

As the older man abandoned the kitchen and came to meet Dave in the living room, the teen half-heartedly held up his hands. "Guilty. Lock me up, Judge. I've been pretty busy working with Bro. He got me a job, and I'm still training."

He could feel Mr. Egbert's intense blue gaze on him, but Dave didn't flinch. He was used to it. He knew Mr. Egbert cared about him a lot, and they both knew that Bro wasn't the best guardian. Hell, he had seen with his own two eyes how Bro and Mr. Egbert did not interact well together. Mr. Egbert's eyes seemed to be trained on Dave's neck. Weird, but okay. "And what is that bruise from?" the guardian asked as he motioned to Dave's neck.

Oh, fuck. Was that from today's training session? Yeah, Bro got a little aggressive sometimes, but Dave was sure the finger-like bruises around the side of his neck didn't bode well.

"Oh, you know," Dave mumbled as his hand instinctively went to cover the bruise. "Rough and tumble. Things got a little out of hand at football practice yesterday."

"John said that you quit football two weeks ago. He was happy that you have study hall with him now for last period."

Shit. Though he was panicking internally, he kept his composure on the outside. His tone of voice never wavered. "Yeah, no, I was just out there to talk to the guys and there was a fight. I broke it up."

It was clear that Mr. Egbert wasn't buying it. But he didn't press the issue further. Instead, he lowered his voice to be softer, warmer, and he said, "Dave, you know you're welcome here whenever, right? Absolutely whenever. Day or night."

"I know, Mr. Egbert."

"For any reason. If you just want to see John, or maybe you don't feel safe—"

"I know, Mr. Egbert. Thank you."

It was clear that Mr. Egbert wasn't too happy, but he let it go. He sat up a bit straighter and wiped his hands on his apron once more. "If I had known you were coming over, I would have made that apple pie you like so much."

"Well, the night is still young, right?" Dave joked. "It's only six."

"Do you plan on staying over tonight?"

"Yes, sir." Dave slid his backpack off and held it against his chest. "But I gotta work in the morning, so I'll be out of your hair soon enough. Wait, you don't have hair."

Mr. Egbert chuckled and shook his head, then headed back into the kitchen, but not before adding a final, "John's upstairs."

Dave adjusted his shades, sliding them further up the bridge of his nose before heading upstairs. Mr. Egbert was really something else. He was a very caring man. Dave can remember several occasions where he told Dave that he thought of the Strider as a second son. And Dave would be lying if he said he didn't think of Mr. Egbert as the father figure he never had. Everything Dave learned between right and wrong, that wasn't from Bro. That was from Mr. Egbert. He was the one who taught Dave how to cook at a very young age, so he would be able to fend for himself when Bro was gone for days at a time. Mr. Egbert taught Dave how to drive even. He did everything that Bro never even offered to do.

The top couple of stairs creaked when the blond stepped on them, just like they always had. The short hallway to the right stretched out beside him, but he was only interested in the door directly in front of the stairs. The door made him pause, but only for a moment. He forced his knuckles to come in contact with the wood before pushing it open.

"Hey, Egbert."

John was perched on the edge of his bed, doing something on his phone. He glanced up when Dave entered, and his entire face lit up. "Dave, hey." He tossed his phone aside and stood up, holding his arms out expectantly. Dave rolled his eyes, but he dropped his backpack and advanced closer, wrapping his arms tightly around the other. John returned the force, and the two just stood there for a moment. "I know it's only been a few days, but jeez, it feels like it's been an eternity since I've seen you," John mumbled against Dave's shoulder.

All Dave could do was nod. "I know. I'm sorry." Before, he had felt so worried, so anxious about being around John, walking on eggshells to make sure that his brother was happy and that nothing would happen to his best friend. But being there, holding John close, it made all of Dave's worries disappear. Because he knew at that moment that Bro might have won the battle, but there was no way that he'd win this war. He'd never let anything happen to his best friend. And he felt so fucking stupid for thinking that avoiding him would do any good whatsoever.

There was no hug like a John hug. John was only a few inches shorter than Dave, but he was much broader, much beefier. He took after his father in that arena. Egberts tended to have those strong, broad shoulders. Regardless, Dave thought it suited John very well. It was one of his best features. That and his thick, wavy hair. And those eyes, Jesus Christ. He had never seen eyes like John's before they met. Now he couldn't look into those pools without drowning, getting caught in the current of his own mind.

Fuck, he hated feeling so helpless against his emotions. Did he love John? Yeah, of course. And he always would. But was he IN LOVE with John?

Yes. And that's where the problem sprouted. He couldn't very well just come out and express himself to John. First off, he was really bad when it came to talking about feelings. Second, that nagging fear would have stopped him even if he wanted to bring it up. What if his affections were unrequited? John didn't know he swung both ways. No one did. Dave had tried denying it since he was an obnoxious thirteen-year-old. But he could never escape it. He knew John would accept him, but what if he made things weird?

"Jesus, Dave. You're like a furnace." John's voice brought him out of his own mind and back into reality.

He did have a tendency to heat up when he thought about the other in any romantic sense. "So you keep telling me."

"It's alright. I'm always cold, so I'll take what I can get."

The hug was too short lived in Dave's mind, even though in reality it was quite long. John pulled away and returned to the seat on the edge of the bed. Dave followed suit, kicking his shoes off and sitting next to the other.

"I haven't even seen you in study hall. What's up with that, Strider? Did you decide to re-join the football team or something?"

"Nah. Bro wanted me to take some time to train for my new job, so he got the school to let me leave early instead of going to study hall last period."

"Oh, like the work program? But they're so strict on what they accept as 'work.' How the hell did he manage to get them to agree to that?"

Dave gave John an obvious look, and John let out a sigh. "I know he's rich or whatever, but seriously, is there any situation your brother can't buy his way out of?"

"From what I've seen all my life, dude's invincible. And you don't say no to him. Lord knows I've tried."

It was quiet for a beat after that. An uncomfortable pause between them. Then John sat up straight and kept right on with his usual John-ness. "So! Tell me about this mysterious new job. You're working for your brother?"

Dave scoffed a bit, rolling his eyes and leaning back on the bed. He couldn't very well say that he was taking over his brother's role as supreme supervillain. John didn't even know he had powers. "Yeah. I start tomorrow morning. I'll probably be out of here before you get up tomorrow."

"That just means we have to make the most out of tonight. Especially if you're going to be disappearing on me pretty regularly."

Ouch. That hurt. Dave pushed himself up on his elbows and furrowed his brows. "Low blow. It's not like I was intentionally avoiding you."

"Yeah? Promise?"

"Yeah, promise." His stomach was eating at him as he lied right to John's face, but it wasn't the first secret he would keep from John, and it wouldn't be the last. He just had to keep telling himself that it was for John's own good, for his own protection.

John nodded and picked up his phone again."Alright, well. Stay safe at work tomorrow."

Dave sat up completely, hunching forward towards John. "What?"

The brunet glanced up at Dave. "You know, with Firehawk coming back tomorrow."

Dave just stared at his friend, in both confusion and shock. John just half-heartedly rolled his eyes and smirked a bit. An imitation of his best friend that he had picked up very well. He furiously scrolled through something on his phone before showing the screen to Dave. It was all over social media. All sorts of different people posting different pictures of the same insignia, but it was posted all over the city of Houston. It was a silhouette of a bird rising from flames. Dave knew it very well. It was his brother's villainous coat of arms, and now it was his. It was the bird that was embellished on the chest of the suit in his backpack. Dave took the phone from John and scrolled through all of the pictures. Most of them were the insignia spray painted on the walls of buildings, others were pictures of small posters that had been plastered. But all of them had a single date underneath the insignia. Tomorrow's date. Under that, the phrase, "novam hanc ex cinere" was written in black.

"Are you fucking kidding me," Dave muttered as he scrolled.

"Everyone's saying it means 'rebirth from the ashes.' So I guess Firehawk is making a comeback? It happened while we were at school today. I'm surprised you haven't seen this yet! I don't think anyone has heard from him since we were like, ten."

"Yeah, because the Guardian kicked his ass so hard that they BOTH decided to retire."

"The Guardian had already retired. He came out of retirement because the local government reached out to him to stop Firehawk, since no other hero could. But I guess he's coming back? It's all over the news, too."

"Yeah, I bet it is." Dave did his best to keep a calm face on, but he was fucking furious. Why did Bro have to go out and create such a goddamn spectacle? And doing something so cliché as using Latin to send the message, come on. He supposed it was for the irony of it. But there wasn't a whole lot that Dave could do about it now.

John sprung to his feet and raised his arms above his head in a stretch, causing the hem of his shirt to rise and the tops of his boxers to be exposed. Dave had to force his head to turn so he wouldn't just be staring. "Anyways," John grunted as he dropped his arms down to his sides. "Do you wanna play a game or something? You've got some ass-kicking you need to catch up on."

Dave couldn't just push all this new information to the back of his mind just yet, but maybe he could distract himself for a while. He just smirked and cracked his knuckles.

"I sure do. Prepare your ass for kicking."

John was in the middle of walking over to his game console when he spun and frowned at Dave. "Wait… Hold on, I said that wrong."

"Too late, can't take it back."

The night went on like it normally did when the two got together. They hung out, they talked shit, they played games, they had dinner with John's dad. And Dave struggled to keep treading their normal relationship without fucking something up.

It was something like two in the morning when they finally decided to call it quits for the night.

The night for them gently tumbled to an end, and the boys were lying in John's bed in the pitch black. Dave set his shades on the nightstand and turned on his side to face John. All of their colors were muted in the dark. All Dave could make out was the shape of John's face. Ironically, it was always clearer at night because it was the only time that John would take his bulky glasses off.

John was all tucked under the blanket, on his side facing Dave. Dave had his arm underneath the pillow, like he was cradling it to his head. And they just stared at each other for a moment, in the dark silence of it all. John was the first one to break the silence.

"Where have you really been, Dave?"

The question definitely caught him off guard. "I told you, Bro got me a job working for him at the record store."

"We've been friends for eleven years. I'd like to think I know you pretty well. And I know when you're lying to me."

Dave didn't flinch, but he did tense a bit. "John, I'm not lying to you."

"It's your jock friends, right?" His voice was soft, calm. Not accusing, just curious. "You know what they say about me."

"I left football for a reason, John. They're fucking toxic. And they're not my friends."

"You know what they've been saying all week?"

Dave had heard a few rumors. He nodded, but then he remembered that they were in the dark and that John was without his glasses, so he spoke up. "Yeah."

"Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because they've been calling us fags? Saying we're—"

Dave sat up straight. "No. You think I give a fuck what those asswipes think of us? I don't care."

John sat up at this point, too. "Then why are you avoiding me?"

Dave ran a hand through his board-straight locks. He had to tell John something. He wasn't taking no for an answer. He could stick with the lie, which he knew wouldn't appease John at all. John would just keep pushing. He could tell John the truth about the ultimatum, about how his brother was basically threatening John's life in order to force Dave to become a villain. But then what would John think of him? No, there was only one thing that he could think to tell John right now. It went against every fiber of his being.

Dave let out a shaky sigh. He was breaking. His walls were breaking down from stress, from an overload, and John could tell. He softened a bit and reached out to take Dave's hand. "Dave, what the fuck is going on?" he whispered.

Dave slowly pulled his hand away. He grabbed his shades, the only wall he had left, and slid them on before getting out of the bed. John fumbled for his glasses before turning on his nightstand lamp. "Dave, you can talk to me. You know you can talk to me. You know I'd never judge you or anything, you know I'm always right by your side. Talk to me."

"They're right." Dave set one hand on his hip, the other one going to rub the back of his neck. "They're absolutely right."

"Who's right?"

"The jocks are." Dave started to pace a bit. He couldn't stand still, couldn't do it. He had to move. "I do work for my brother now, but that's not why I haven't been around. I've been avoiding you because they're right. I'm gay, John. At least partially. And I'm gay for you. And this is fucking Texas. And it's goddamn high school. It's a fucking goddamn high school in TEXAS. You think this is gonna end pretty? No. It's not. This is gonna be a huge fucking trainwreck, and you know what people say about trainwrecks? They say that they're so goddamn terrible, the destruction is so bad, that you can't look away. Everyone's eyes are gonna be glued to my fucking trainwreck. And I don't want you involved with that, frankly, so I've just been trying to do my best to avoid you so maybe these feelings will just fucking die already and we can move on with our really awesome friendship. Because I'd give anything for us to stay friends, y'know? Yeah, we got Rose and Jade and all the others, but you're my longest fucking friend. And I would rather lose my arm than stop being friends with you, even if it means I have to pretend that everything is fine, every single day."

The air was still. Dave finally planted his feet in one spot and stared at John as he tried to process everything that Dave had said. Dave could feel his skin warm, practically radiating heat. It was a long moment between them before John did or said anything. Finally, he stood up and advanced towards Dave. Dave didn't move. John wrapped his arms around Dave's neck and gave him the tightest hug Dave had ever received from the other. Dave still didn't move. He could tell that his skin was unbearably hot.

If John accepted and returned his feelings, that would be fucking amazing. But if he got turned away, if he lost John, then maybe it would be for the best. Then Bro wouldn't have anything to blackmail Dave with. Then Dave would be free to try to move on after a month of heartache. He could accept the rejection and get over it. At least, that's what he was telling himself. And telling John his feelings was a lot easier than telling John that he was actually a super and that he was going to be Firehawk's heir.

"Dave," John whispered. Dave still didn't move. He closed his eyes. "Stop being so fucking dramatic and hug me, damn it." Dave's eyes slowly opened, and a mix of anxiety and confusion were pouring out of him. Hesitantly, he brought his arms up to wrap around his friend. John continued, "I'm always going to be your best friend. And I like you, too. I have for a while now! I'm surprised you didn't notice." He quickly pecked Dave's cheek before pulling out of the embrace. "Everything's fine. Yes, I like you back. So I guess the jocks were right. Can we go to bed now?"

As speechless as Dave felt, he managed to stutter out a single word, a smile growing slowly on his face.

"…Y-Yeah."


	2. The Bank

"Even though Firehawk's reign of terror ended several years ago, people are terrified. Businesses have closed, employees have been sent home, and anywhere that's still open has police on stand-by. Did you know that they also have most of the forces from Fort Bend County AND Montgomery County stationed in the heart of the city today? If Firehawk was going to make a reappearance, maybe advertising the exact day wasn't such a good id—"

Dave shut off the radio a little more forcefully than he wanted to. He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head slightly, trying to get his temperature to lower. He couldn't afford to replace his steering wheel again, and the smell of melted plastic and rubber would never leave him. The only thing that kept his hoodie and sweatpants from combusting was the reinforced fabric of his super suit underneath. It was comfortable against his skin, but hell, he had never felt so uncomfortable in his life.

It was the same design of Bro's suit, but it was different colors. Bro's had been mostly an amber orange with red and black detailing. Dave's suit hugged against his form, revealing the secretly toned muscle he tended to hide under his long sleeve shirts. The only good thing about the suit was that it made his ass look fantastic. But it covered him, head to toe, not a single inch revealed. Reinforced one-way tinted plastic protected his eyes from being seen, and the print on his mask almost made it appear as though he had a beak. The unique heat-resistant material was red with amber and black detailing, like in the logo that sprawled across his chest, a bird rising from flames, the wings spreading out and covering shoulder to shoulder.

He had parked about a mile from his target, a local bank that had maybe three or four branches throughout the city. He could building-hop over to his target with ease. He just had to get to the top of this apartment building… He grabbed the duffel bag in his backseat that housed his katana and two wakizashi swords and took off.

As he made his way up the stairs, he couldn't help but to think about John. He was so lucky to have a best friend that cared about him so much. And it was so amazing to think that after all this time, they could be something… more. Dave had been in relationships before, but none of them had really meant anything to him. Not like what John meant to him. He couldn't mess this up. What if he got hurt? How would John react? Or worse, what if he got caught? Yeah, John was pretty accepting last night, but what would he do if he found out that Dave was actually out here about to rob a bank? That Dave was the heir to a long-dead criminal legacy?

He was starting to heat up again. He took in a deep breath and tried to instead focus on the good morning he had. He woke up way before John did, as expected. Dave hardly ran on sleep, and that night was no exception. When he did wake up, John had a strong arm wrapped around him, and he was snoring in Dave's ear. It was mildly annoying, at least until Dave started to come to a bit more. Then he found it endearing. Feeling his back pressed against John's strong chest, feeling the exhale of John's heavy breaths against the back of his neck, it was… comforting. And for a moment, Dave felt guilty. He forgot about what had happened the night before, and he felt guilty soaking it all in. But then he remembered. He remembered how John said he felt the same. And his heart swelled.

He knew from experience that he could easily shrug John off of him without waking the other. The brunet was like a bear in hibernation. Dave just smiled to himself and rolled his eyes and he threw John's arm off of his waist and sat up, grabbed his shades, and grabbed his backpack from beside John's bed. He'd change into his suit somewhere that wasn't his best friend's house.

His bag was on his shoulder, suit securely inside as he quietly trotted down the stairs. He should've known that Mr. Egbert was already up, dressed, and making breakfast. "Dave," he heard the man call as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Don't think you can sneak out of here without eating something first."

Dave checked the time on his phone, decided he had enough time to grab a bite, and walked into the kitchen with a slight smirk. "Mornin' to you, too, Mr. Egbert."

The elder Egbert just smiled as Dave sat down at the small kitchen table. He returned to flipping pancakes by the stove. "Did you boys have a good night last night?"

"Yeah, we had a good night. Hope we weren't too loud, we were up a little later than I thought we would be."

"Oh please, Dave. I invested in earplugs years ago."

Dave chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah… probably for the best."

"Well, I'm just glad that John has someone he's so close with. He's never had a friend quite like you before."

"I've never had a friend like John before. I wouldn't think twice about stepping in front of a bullet for him."

"I know he returns the sentiment, but hopefully neither of you will ever have to. Crime in Houston has been relatively low ever since Firehawk stepped down. The police do an excellent job managing the city."

"Yeah." Dave looked down at the formica surface of the kitchen table, seeing the faintest reflection of shades staring back up at him. It was disrupted when Mr. Egbert set down a plate of pancakes with caramelized apples on top, bacon, and eggs. He also set down a tall glass of apple juice and a small mug of coffee, lightened with cream and sugar until it was nearly the exact shade of Mr. Egbert's skin.

Dave looked up as the man sat next to him with his own equal plate of goodies and a large mug of coffee, black. "Mr. Egbert—"

"Dave, we go through this every morning. You're too skinny, I love cooking, and I love you. You're like a son to me. Eat your damn food."

Dave failed to suppress the chuckle that left him, and he nodded and picked up a fork. No arguing with that logic. As Dave began to dig in, Mr. Egbert just watched. He picked up his mug of coffee and took small sips as he watched Dave stuff his face. Dave was too busy appreciating the skill and artistry of the breakfast placed before him to notice the other observing him. And Dave was only brought out of his food trance when he heard Mr. Egbert ask a question.

"So you're working for your brother now?"

Dave paused and glanced up at the man, then set his fork down and grabbed his juice to wash down what was in his mouth. He answered once it was clear. "Yes, sir. At the record shop."

"I know John mentioned that you had been looking for a job for a while now. Because you wanted to save up for something?"

"Just save up. In general. Never too early to start a savings."

"Right… I could have sworn he said something about you moving out."

Damn it, John. "Well, yeah. Eventually. I mean, I wanna go to college and all that. I was going to get a full ride on a football scholarship, but I just couldn't stand it anymore."

"What, football? You love football. What happened?"

Dave's eyes averted to his glass of juice, not that Mr. Egbert could see. He didn't really know how or if he should explain the whole situation.

"I just… was surrounded by a lot of toxic people. It wasn't safe anymore."

"Were they threatening you?"

There was an unsettling calm to Mr. Egbert's voice, like it was a calculated cool. His gaze was intense, and the shadow from his hat covering his eyes only made him seem more intimidating. Dave clenched his jaw just a bit, then continued. "No, but they were bullying some other kids. I couldn't stand it anymore. The administration wouldn't do anything because we've never had a season this good, so they aren't going to punish the kids bringing attention to the school. Even if they're assholes." Mr. Egbert raised a brow, and Dave cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"Who on the team specifically was on board with the bullying?"

"Hell, all but me and one other guy. And we both quit."

"Who were they bullying?"

Dave paused for a beat too long. "Several different kids."

"And you went to visit the team yesterday? Even though it sounds like you don't really care much for the boys on the team?"

Dave froze like a deer in headlights. Shit, he hated when Mr. Egbert did this. No wonder John couldn't keep a secret from his Dad to save his life. His dad was a master interrogator. He had Dave right where he wanted him. He wondered for a brief second if his dad knew he was into dudes or not. But before he could think of another excuse, Mr. Egbert continued.

"You didn't visit the team yesterday. There was no fight you broke up. At least not at school."

Shit, shit! Fuck, what was he supposed to say to that? There was nothing he could say to that. So he just sat there, stone-faced, staring head on at Mr. Egbert. But behind his shades, he didn't have to meet his eyes. He opted to turn his eyes down instead.

"Dave, look at me."

Fuck. How did he do that?

"I don't know what's going on with you or your brother… But maybe you should stay here for a few days. I'm sure it'll be—"

Dave abruptly grabbed his backpack and rose to his feet. "Thanks for breakfast, Mr. Egbert. Will you tell John I'll text him?"

Mr. Egbert also rose to his feet. "Dave, we need to talk about this."

"I'm fine, Mr. Egbert."

He was caught off guard when a strong hand reached over and pushed on his shoulder, forcing him to sit. "You're not leaving until I get an answer out of you." Mr. Egbert's voice was more forceful than Dave had ever heard before, and it shook him to his core. Mr. Egbert had always seemed like this stern but gentle giant, he had no idea how intimidating he could actually be.

Mr. Egbert continued, "Dave, I've said it a million times, and I'll say it again. You're my second son. I worry about you constantly. And I hope it's not out of line, but I feel like I raised you. I helped you with your homework, I taught you how to drive, I made sure you were here on holidays and birthdays. You mean just as much to me as John does. And I know you better than you think I do. I know something is going on with you. This is a safe place, you can tell me what's wrong. You know that neither John nor I would ever go out of our way to hurt you. We only want the best for you. We love you."

Dave was quiet for a beat, just trying to take in everything that Mr. Egbert was throwing at him. He knew that they cared. He cared about them, too. Most of the time, he felt like more of an Egbert than he did a Strider. Mr. Egbert was the one that encouraged Dave to pursue music. Mr. Egbert was the one that would pick Dave up from school when he was sick. It was always Mr. Egbert. He was always there.

He was always there. But Dave still couldn't let him know the truth. And he hated throwing John under the bus, but he didn't know how else to get Mr. Egbert to back off.

"They were bullying John. The football team. Saying awful shit about him, spreading rumors, trying to make everyone hate him. So I left the team. And I tried to intervene. That's what happened. I gotta go to work now. Thanks for breakfast." His tone was a lot icier than what he meant it to be, and he couldn't recall a time he had ever used that tone of voice with Mr. Egbert. But apparently it was enough for John's dad to let him go. He was out the door when he heard John's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

That whole breakfast encounter was the last thing he needed to be hyper focusing on. He needed to remember the details from casing the bank. It sure was easy to get details when they had a glass dome ceiling. How many security guards were there, at what times, what routes they took, and he needed to factor in the extra security that most likely would be around thanks to Bro's stupid announcement. That son of a bitch knew exactly what he was doing when he announced the exact day that a new player was entering the game. He wanted to throw Dave for a loop. Make things harder on him. He knew that this had to be some sort of villain lesson, maybe about how things don't always go according to plan. Or maybe this was just Bro being a dick.

The latter was what Dave chose to believe.

When he made it to the rooftop, he shed his clothes and stuffed them into his backpack, strapped his swords to his back, then grabbed his mask and slid it on over his head. He hated masks, but thank God this one was airy enough to let him breathe normally, and the plastic lenses were large enough that his peripheral vision wasn't obscured. Bro really knew what he was doing when he was designing everything. But then again, it was basically just a reskin of his old suit.

With time ticking and no other distractions to be had, Dave kicked his backpack into a corner by the door to the stairwell, and he took off running for the edge of the roof. He had faster than average speed, but that alone wasn't enough to jump the gap between the two buildings. He launched himself over the concrete border of the roof and threw his hands behind and below himself, sending out two large blasts of flame. The power was enough to give him enough momentum to get to the second building. And rinse and repeat.

With all of the endurance training Dave had received over the years, running and turbo blasting a mile was hardly a big deal. He made it to the bank just barely inside the window he had set for himself. There was a police car parked outside with one officer hanging out in it. He waited for about ten minutes, just watching, and it seemed like the officer was busy doing a crossword puzzle. He had no urgency about him, like he really didn't want to be there, like he was convinced nothing would happen.

Better for Dave that way. He slipped around the side of the building and jumped off of it, using a quick blast of fire to break his fall before he hit the ground, to break the momentum, and then he fell the remaining five feet and landed on his feet. He wasn't worried about being seen. No, Bro made sure to tell Dave that he HAD to be seen. But it seemed like the streets were abandoned. All the better to sneak around the police car and over to the fire exit on the side of the building. "Alarm will sound," Dave mumbled as he read the sign on the door. He very gently pulled it open, not at all surprised by the silence that greeted him. He wandered into the remote lobby where not a single person looked up. The only sounds heard were of pages flipping in an open office to the side, and the soles on the bottom of Dave's suit clicking against the tile floor. No one addressed him. He walked over to the teller's desk, where an older woman was reading a book. She didn't look up.

"Wow," he started. "No wonder you guys are so dead today. With such terrible customer service, who would want to keep their money here?"

When the woman did finally glance up at him, she froze. Dave propped his elbows up on the counter and leaned forward, inches from the glass that separated them. "That's more like it," he boomed. "I'm gonna need to make a withdrawal. But first, I'm gonna need you to hit that little red security button underneath your desk." She didn't move. "Well come on," he roared. "I don't have all day, let's go, call the cops already. That one you got sitting out there sure as hell ain't gonna do shit."

He could see the slight tremor in her hand as she put down her book and moved to press the button underneath the counter. "There you go," he cooed. "Maybe there's hope for you yet. Now get up off of your lazy ass and go get me my money, won't you, sweetheart? And a welcome party while you're at it."

Slowly, she rose out of her seat, but she didn't move. "You're not him," she said with a scowl. "You're just an imposter."

"Who, Firehawk? No shit I'm not him. I'm the next in line. Now get going before I get mad."

"You're just some lost man playing dress up."

In one swift movement, Dave threw a fiery fist out and punched the glass with all his might, shattering it and sending the pieces flying. The woman threw her hands up to protect her face and crouched down on the ground. Dave climbed up onto the counter and moved through the new hole in the glass, both hands ignited all the way up to his elbows. Sirens started to go off in the building. "Now look at what you've done," he chastised. "I'm mad now."

"I'm sorry!" the woman started to yell. "I'm so sorry! The money is in the vault, just take it!"

He could see a few drops of blood on the ground, and his stomach lurched. Fuck, did he actually hurt her? He knelt down in front of her, and though she was cowering, he forced her hands down and grabbed her chin, tilting her head up. Her eyes were shut tight, and tears were starting to slide down her cheeks. She had a thin slice on her forehead, but that was it. "Oh, good, just a scratch," he mumbled as he let her go. She moved underneath the teller desk and drew her knees up to her chest.

As he advanced to the vault, he heard a masculine voice behind him call out, "Freeze!" He turned and saw two security guards, both armed with stun guns aimed at him. Dave just scoffed and threw his arm dismissively, sending a short flame wave towards them. It only made it as far as the ends of their stun guns, which started to melt in their hands. Instinctively, both of them dropped their weapons and took several steps back to escape the heat that came for them. "Seriously, I don't have time to deal with you two fuckups." He walked into the open vault and started to grab a few stacks of cash and shove them into his suit pockets. Of course, only Bro would design a suit with pockets.

He heard a crashing through the doors to the lobby and a herd of footsteps quickly approaching. Dave didn't bother to turn around until he had about five different men call out, "Freeze!" Only then did he turn around and see ten SWAT members with guns and laser sights pointed at him. He also saw several officers with bodycams.

"Oh, good, you're finally here. Took you long enough, huh?"

"Put the money down!"

"Yeah, sure." Dave tossed the stack of cash in his hand over his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. "So. How's your day going?"

"Put your hands up where we can see them!"

"Eh, my day has been kind of so-so. Had a pretty good breakfast. Well, for the most part."

"Hands up!"

"Christ, are you always this forceful? Is that what your wife is into?"

"You have until the count of three!"

"Yeah, yeah." Dave let out a sigh and raised his hands. "Hey, I'm really glad you guys are here."

"Get on your knees!"

"Ooh. You're a kinky one, huh? Is your police chief around, by chance? I'd love to talk to him."

"One!"

"I just wanna talk to him. I'll surrender after I talk to him."

"Two—"

Dave groaned loudly and got down on his knees. "Dick sucking position. I love it. Are you gonna tie my hands up, too?"

A SWAT guy moved forward with a pair of handcuffs and forced Dave's hands down behind his back. Dave groaned a bit at how forceful he was and purred out, "So are you planning on taking me to dinner first?" He absconded faster than Dave could keep track of, and he laughed. Then a man who looked like a very important head honcho approached Dave with a gun in his hands. The barrel was aimed at Dave, not that Dave cared.

"My name is Chief Vantas. Care to tell me yours?"

"Well, I'm not Firehawk. Sorry to disappoint you. I'm actually the next in line. I haven't worked out a name yet. I figured that's something the papers could do."

"So… you really admire Firehawk, huh? Think you can be the next big super villain?"

"You tell me who decided to bring in a whole van of SWAT to this tiny-ass bank."

"Honestly, we thought that Firehawk would hit a bigger target."

"Oh, I'm not really here for the money. I'm here for you."

"For me?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to talk to you. Get to know each other since I'm sure we'll be seeing each other around."

"I don't think so. You're coming down to the station, and you're going to sit in a cell until we figure out what to do with you."

"That sure sounds like fun. But I've got plans, sorry."

"Your plans will have to be put on hold."

"No, Chief. YOUR plans will have to be put on hold."

Dave brought his hands around to show that he had melted the handcuffs right off, and in a swift movement, he grabbed the barrel of the gun and aimed it at the glass ceiling. As suspected, the gun went off a couple of times as the Chief struggled to get it back under his control, and the ceiling shattered. Large pieces of glass came down around them, causing everyone to scatter and protect themselves. Dave crossed his arms over his head and sent massive flames shooting out from his feet, rising up and out of the hole he had just created from the ceiling. He ran across the fractured glass, fast enough to make it across before it fell into the bank lobby, and launched himself back up to a nearby building. The sirens were wailing in the streets below him, but he kept hopping buildings, all the way a mile back to where his backpack and duffel bag were. He threw his swords into his duffel, shoved his mask into his backpack, slid his sweats and hoodie back on, rolled off the gloved part of his suit, and took off.


End file.
